Authors: Tamsyn Bester
Destined To Fall
To
Fall
By
Tamsyn Bester
Copyright © 2013 by Tamsyn Bester
Cover Design by © Sommer Stein, Perfect Pear Creative Covers
PHOTO COPYRIGHT © Toski Covey, Toski Covey Photography
Tamsyn Bester. Destined To Fall Kindle Edition
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of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system,
or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner
and the above publisher of this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places,
brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are
used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without
permission. The publication/ use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with,
or sponsored by the trademark owners. This eBook is licensed for your personal use only.
This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share
this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you
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for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for
I believe that every author should have at least one book that they write purely for themselves. Destined To Fall is that book for me. It was a challenge, and the book that will
make me a better writer.
I’d like to thank my family for their love and support, and especially my mom, who has
been behind me all the way and encouraged me to keep going, no matter how hard,
tiring or crazy things got. I wouldn’t have had the courage to dream big and reach for the
stars if it weren’t for you, mommy.
I’d also like to thank the amazing group of women who have quickly become my trusted friends, and Beta readers – Michelle Davis Grad, Toski Reanne Covey, Jessica Carter,
Carrie Richardson-Horton, Jessica Bowman, Sommer Stein, and Lisa Sharley Serpa. I
love you all so much, and maybe one day, I will be able to hug you in person.
Then, a special thanks to my critique partner and friend, Michelle Davis Grad! This book
would not have made it without you– thank you for all the nitpicky feedback, and for
helping me when I got stuck! Love you lady!
I’d also like to thank all the bloggers who have helped me promote my books – Nikki at
Blissful Book Blog, Jessica at Bookend 2 Bookend, Heather at The REAL Housewives of
Romance Book Blog, Lisa at I Pimp My Authors, Ena at Enticing Journey Book Promotions, Sophie at Bridger Bitches Book Blog, Krystle at Four Brits and a Book, Sirenda at
Swoon Worthy Books and all the other bloggers (you know who you are!) Also to all the
blogs who have signed up for the blog tour, and who have requested ARC’s for this book,
THANK YOU for your support!!
I also want to take the time to thank some of my fellow indie authors who have guided
me, and inspired me – Shanora Williams (and all our FB booty pops), Tijan (for always
buying my books to support me!), Rachel Brookes (for encouraging me, and telling me
everything will be okay!), and Rebecca Berto (For always listening – or rather reading-
my endless ramblings about being at Indie Author!
THANK YOU for reading and loving my books and my characters! Love you all!!
Here’s to the crazy ones, the misfits, the rebels, the troublemakers, the round
pegs in the square holes... the ones who see things differently -- they’re not
fond of rules... You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify
them, but the only thing you can’t do is ignore them because they change
things... they push the human race forward, and while some may see them
as the crazy ones, we see genius, because the ones who are crazy enough to
think that they can change the world, are the ones who do. ~ Steve Jobs
~ Cassey ~
His hands trail up my naked torso, cupping each breast and rubbing my nipples
until they harden under the pad of his thumb. My back arches, seeking more of him, of
his touch. When his hands move back down, I whimper at the loss of contact until I feel
his hot, wet tongue start to tease and suck each breast in turn. A flame coils in my belly,
causing an ache that only he can soothe. I try to move my hands so that I can run them
through his glorious, rich brown locks but they’re restrained. I pull a little harder and
feel cool metal biting into my skin. Handcuffs. My disappointment at being unable to
touch him is soon wiped away when he moves his head farther down, licking my sensitive flesh. I feel his tongue dip into my navel and I squirm, eager for him to keep going.
He chuckles and the sound of his deep voice travels to where I’m starving for him.
“My gorgeous, greedy, little Peach,” he breathes. His hands stop at my hips and he uses his
knee to nudge my thighs apart, exposing me to him completely. “Look at me,” he commands.
“I want you to watch me use my tongue to make you come.” I shiver. “Cassey,” he growls.
My eyes snap open and I look into his clear blue eyes, a storm of lust and hunger swirling viciously in their depths. He licks his lips and a moan slips from between my slightly parted lips.
“Oh please,” I beg, unable to help myself. He’s driving me wild and I’m being consumed by
my own ravenous need. I want him to own me, consume me and give me what I crave. Him.
His lips kiss my inner thigh on one side and then he kisses the other, his dangerous blue eyes never leaving mine. “Please what, baby?” he teases.
He wants me to tell him what I want, but only because it turns him on to hear me say the
words ‘Fuck Me’. The wicked grin on his face makes me feel like a helpless rabbit about to
be devoured by a wolf. A big bad wolf. He leans down and I hear him inhale. “Hmmm,” he
mumbles. “Sweet as a Georgia peach.” I watch as he lifts my legs and wraps them around
his neck. My heart is already racing but by some miracle it increases in speed. “Tell me
what you want, Cassey,” he growls again. He is so bossy. And it’s such a fucking turn on.
“I want -” I lick my dry lips and force the words out from my very dry mouth. “I want
you to fuck me, Kyler.” He grins widely. My big bad wolf. His eyes stay glued to mine
as his head dips and I hold my breath in anticipation. His tongue dives between my
slick folds and the heat and moisture assaults my clit. My hips buck and I feel him
smile against me. He likes teasing me, pushing me until the edge is within reach and
then pulling me back. His tongue slides between my sensitive lips until it reaches the
little hub of nerves he’s searching for. The familiar pressure builds and when I think
I’m ready to crash, his mouth pulls back. I struggle to catch my breath, panting loudly
until his mouth covers mine. I taste myself on him, which only serves to increase my
arousal. “Please,” I breathe into his mouth. “I don’t think I can-” my words are cut off
when he slowly slips one finger into me and then another, beginning the slow, torturous
process of teasing my clit all over again. My hips start moving and fall into rhythm
with his fingers while I ride his hand. “Yes,” I breathe harshly. “Oh my God, yes.”
I ignore the pain in my wrists and focus only on the building pressure between my legs.
He starts curling his fingers upward, massaging my upper walls each
time his fingers retreat, and applying more pressure as they surge back in.
is close and I feel myself tighten around his fingers until…until… an alarm goes off.
My eyes fly open and I sit up straight in bed. I hit the clock next to my bed to
shut off the alarm that abruptly ended my very happy dream before I got happy. I wipe the small droplets of sweat from my forehead and slump against my
headboard. Did I just have a wet dream? Yes. I just had a wet dream. Under
normal circumstances I would feel embarrassed, ashamed even, but given that
I haven’t had sex in over a year, it’s perfectly normal for me to feel frustrated.
Thanks to my alarm’s impeccable timing, I’m even more frustrated after being
unable to finish. The image of deep, blue eyes and dark, rich brown hair comes
to mind and I blush, even though I’m alone in my room. He can only be a
figment of my imagination, a delirious fantasy, because I’ve never dated a man
that looks anything like him. Something about those eyes…
A soft knock on my bedroom door makes me jump and I clasp my damp
tank top. “Who is it?” I choke out. It can only be one person but I’m so lost in
my imaginary Adonis’ blue eyes that all sense momentarily disappeared.
she steps into my room.
I sigh. “Sorry, Quinny. I was a little confused.” She comes to stand next to
my bed and I take in her light pink nighties and her matching pink slippers.
Quinn Avery is a stunning woman. Her blonde hair is cut into a sleek bob that
accentuates her high cheek bones, rosy cheeks and hazel colored eyes. We’re
both the same height, standing at five feet six inches, but where her hair his
blonde and short, mine is light brown and hangs to the middle of my back, and
where her eyes are hazel, mine are green.
“You better get ready,” she quips, surveying my sweaty appearance.
“You have a meeting at eight.” I slide my legs over the edge of the bed and
“Shit,” I mutter.
I have less than forty-five minutes to get ready and make a stop at Starbucks
on my way to work. I dash past Quinn, who chuckles behind me, and take the
quickest shower of my life. If it wasn’t for her, I would never do anything or get
anywhere on time. You’d think that by the age of twenty-two my time management would be perfect. Sadly, it’s not. I riffle through my small closet until
I find my gray pencil skirt and my white button down blouse with bell sleeves.
I’m busy fastening the strap of my black wedges when Quinn walks into my
room. She’s wearing her favorite cream colored dress pants with a red button
down shirt and matching red stiletto heels.
my oversized Gucci knock off purse.
“Are we stopping at Starbucks?” Quinn asks while she puts her diamond stud
earrings in. She always dresses to impress and that goes for her flashy accessories too. Unlike me, Quinn comes from a very wealthy family who are very well
known here in Chicago. She doesn’t need a job but chooses to work because
it’s what she loves doing.
Quinny.”
Making sure that I have everything, I grab my purse and my laptop bag and
walk out in the hallway and into the kitchen. I love our little apartment. It’s
our slice of heaven. The floors are all hardwood and the furniture is a combination of dark chocolate and caramel in color, with red scatter cushions to add
some depth. The short hallway leads to two bedrooms and a bathroom.
Luckily Quinn has an en suite bathroom of her own so we don’t have to
share. Our kitchen has steel appliances, courtesy of Quinn’s parents, and marble counters with wood cupboards that match the floors. My favorite feature
is the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf in the corner of what should be our dining
room. Instead of dining room furniture, we got a chaise lounge set and now
use it as a reading nook. Quinn comes strolling down the hallway like it’s a
runway and slips her too big sunglasses on top of her head. In the two years
that we’ve been living together, I’ve learned many things about Quinn, one of
them being no matter how well she dresses she doesn’t give a shit what anyone
thinks. She smiles at me and I return it as we slip out of our apartment and
into the elevator that takes us five floors down to the lobby. We greet Charles,
an older gentleman, who mans the front desk, and step into the bustle of a
Monday morning. The city is so different compared to where I grew up. There
isn’t even a comparison between it and the tiny town I ran away from or the
two bedroom trailer I shared with my good-for-nothing parents. I push my
thoughts about them and that life out of my mind as we near the Starbucks on
the corner.
I order two Vanilla Lattes and wait patiently to collect them.
The young guy behind the counter is watching me and I have to admit the
attention isn’t completely unwelcome. He looks about twenty-one with sandy
blonde hair that hangs in his face. He isn’t unfortunate looking by any means
but I find myself comparing him to the blue eyes and chocolate colored hair
from my dream. My cheeks flush at the memory and when the guy hands me
our Latte’s the look on his face tells me he thinks he made me blush. I duck my
head and pass Quinn her cup before walking back out onto the busy sidewalk.